Page 104 of Hot Streak

“More, though?”

There was no denying how eager Connor was. Or how much that bolstered Jackson’s ego.

“Yeah. I could give you more.” I could give you everything. Jackson was already thinking of what else he could do. How he could make Connor thrash and moan for it, and even though his cock stayed soft, that was definitely arousal spiking through him. “But first, I’m gonna take a shower. I’d offer for you to join me, but it’s the tiniest fucking stall in the universe.”

“Disappointing,” Connor said. “I like the way you look wet.”

“You can get in after me, if you want?”

Connor nodded. “Alright.”

Jackson waved his hand around the bare bones apartment. “This isn’t much, I know. But feel free to make yourself at home. Not sure there’s much in the fridge.”

“I’m not hungry,” Connor said. Then shot him a crooked, sweet grin that made Jackson’s heartbeat rabbit. “For food, anyway.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Jackson retorted, but as he headed towards the bathroom, he couldn’t deny how gooey and fond his words had sounded.

You’re in deep. So fucking deep.

By the time Connor finished his shower, he was buzzing with anticipation and desire, cock half-hard in his hand as he rinsed clean.

He dried off as quickly as he could, even though he was doing his best not to look so eager as he walked from the tiny bathroom into the bedroom slash living space.

Jackson was lounging on the bed, gloriously naked and so fucking gorgeous Connor went from half-hard to fully hard so fast his head spun.

He’d never mistake Jackson for a woman. He was big and brawny and so masculine he made Connor’s heart clench. And he wanted him anyway. Wanted him more than he’d ever wanted anybody else.

His sister was always telling him people’s sexuality was on a spectrum. That practically nobody was totally, one hundred percent straight.

But he’d never felt it, so viscerally, as he had right now.

Reaching out, he traced the lines of Jackson’s abs as he sat up, a warm smile on his face. “You good?” he asked.

Jackson didn’t need to check in so many times, making sure Connor was comfortable, but he did anyway.

It made Connor doubt the way Jackson had continually kept saying he didn’t like him. Because this seemed similar to like, or something else, even.

Connor had refused to identify it with words, because that was easier—and not nearly as terrifying as it was to acknowledge that they’d hit brand-new territory for him—but it was hard, standing here, Jackson reaching up to cradle him behind the neck and gently pull him down for a long, spun-out kiss, to continue denying it.

He wasn’t even sure he wanted to.

He’d had sex before. A fairly decent amount of sex.

Even sex he’d considered pretty goddamned good.

But it had never felt like this before.

It wasn’t even that Jackson was a man, and he’d never slept with a man before.

It was the way Jackson fought for him, even when he didn’t know how to fight for himself. It was how careful he was, when Connor had never even thought to ask for it. It was the fire that burned so brightly between them, the air practically crackling with desire as they kissed.

“On the bed.” Jackson’s voice was breathless when they finally broke apart. He was breathing hard, too, his chest mirroring Connor’s own as it rose and fell.

Connor wasn’t going to argue. He was going to take, gladly, everything that Jackson was willing to give him. Every single experience. He’d hoard them all, because the one inescapable truth was that no matter how good this made him feel, no matter how much he just plain liked Jackson, he knew all this would come to an end.

At some point, he’d go to the majors, and it didn’t make a difference how good he thought Jackson was, Connor couldn’t see him following. He’d stay here. He’d be traded again. All Connor would have left would be the memories.

So, they’d better make them really fucking good.

---